In the midst of affluence: poverty
A seething storm threatening to destroy
The stable comfort of the wealthy

Shall I eat my own lean flesh?
A damning question demanding an answer
Or that of my fattened neighbour?

Hunger feeds its eyes on abundance
A raging fire ever demanding to be quelled
Discontent, it reaches for the table

Rogue vortices spinning out of control
Someone put a stop to the madness
Who let the dam of passion overflow?

We recall the pomp of those early days
As we weep for wasted years
And hope to redeem what is left of them

Weep and pray for your band of leaders
Whose folly become your doom
That they embrace Wisdom’s counsel

And pray for your sons and daughters
When the flames grow wild
That they be not consumed by them

For out of the ashes arise a new entity
Forged in faith, nurtured in peace
As your steadily rising ensign declares